


Call girl burglar

by DaftDays



Category: Shingeki no Kyojin | Attack on Titan
Genre: Anal Sex, Burglary, Day 6: Reunion, Eruri Week, Light Bondage, M/M, Mild Kink, Mildly Dubious Consent, Not really dub-con, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-01-06
Updated: 2015-01-06
Packaged: 2018-03-06 06:57:13
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,330
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3125225
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DaftDays/pseuds/DaftDays
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“It has been a while, hasn’t it?” the burglar asks. </p><p>Erwin can’t decide if he sounds amazed or amused. Possibly both.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Call girl burglar

**Author's Note:**

> Eruri Week, Day 6: Reunion
> 
> Based on a roleplay scenario between myself and my precious Erwin. Old and not very good but it was half finished and worked with the prompt so here we go. Mostly unedited too, I'm in a hurry. Sorry.

 

Erwin is jostled awake by sudden darkness.

There is a faint smell of candle smoke curling in the air as he lifts his head from the desk, neck tense and aching.

He is way too old for this.

There is an ink stain on the letter he’s been writing. An ugly splodge where he dropped his pen, a dark smudge in the letters where he laid his cheek as he napped, unplanned. It’s was dark inside, his smoking candle the only source of light he had since the sun went down. Now the moon is out and he can make out the shapes of furniture, the letter, his pen and even his own handwriting. Even in the pale glowy light it looks a little scratchy. He’ll have to start the letter over again, the stains render it unacceptable. The sleepy letters aren’t helping either.

Erwin curses softly as he places a cork on his inkwell and wipes his pen clean. He can’t feel it, but he knows there’s ink on his cheek. Wiping it with his hand only smears he stain wider across his skin. He’s exhausted, dealing with the nobles is always rough, and he is more than happy to be home again. Tomorrow he’ll ride out, back to the base, and gets to forget most of this ridiculous trip.

He never bothers to think about what woke him up, not until he’s bent over his work desk drawers, looking for a fresh candle. A loud bang from the floor below catches his attention, startles him. Wrinkles appear between his brows and he freezes on the spot, listens carefully. In the military base people go on about their daily (and nightly) duties at all hours, noise wouldn’t be unexpected, but he isn’t at the base now. He is at home, and as far as he is concerned he is not expecting guests. And in any case, any guest arriving at this hour would be unwelcome.

Erwin doesn’t have the time to light a candle. He stands up slowly and grabs the first thing resembling a weapon. It’s a letter knife, small and quite beautifully decorated, cast out of steel. It’s not sharp, but it looks like it could be, from far away, in the dark, and Erwin hopes it’ll do. Combined with the threat he alone poses with his height and build the makeshift blade should be enough to scare away whoever happens to be trespassing downstairs.

He takes a few steps towards the door to the hallway, tentative, cringes when the floor boards creak. A gust of wind blows through the room and he stops. Goosebumps erupt on his skin.

Erwin never gets the chance to turn, to look back. He never hears the footsteps either.

A knife presses to his throat, the blade in slightly odd angle, a body pushing against his ow from behind. Time seems to slow down for a while as Erwin listens to his own breathing, contemplates the weapon against his skin. It’s obviously sharp, lethally so, and the hand holding it stays perfectly still, trained, used to holding lives at its palm.

Erwin doesn’t move or speak up, he only waits for what he expects to come. He doubts the intruder wants to kill him. He’ll be no use to anyone dead, and his attacker hardly feels like an assassin.

”Impressive”, a low voice drawls after what feels like a small eternity to Erwin. The source of the sound is lower than Erwin expected, somewhere below Erwin’s shoulder blades, and suddenly the angle of the blade makes perfect sense. His attacker is short, about the size of a child even, but the deep roll of his voice proves him an adult man.

Silently, Erwin echoes the sentiment but not about himself. He is thinking about the intruder. He never heard a thing, didn’t wake up, didn’t notice the man sliding through his window.

Because that sure is impressive. And also a little unnerving.

“Sleeping with your window open is going to get you killed”, the intruder points out, an amused edge in his voice. It’s still low, still a little rough, and the blade doesn’t move on Erwin’s throat.

When Erwin speaks up, the knife cuts into his skin.  
“Is it, now?” he says, fishing for a reaction. He doesn’t remember opening his window.

At first, the stranger does hardly anything. He only eases the pressure of the knife just so, letting a drop of blood pour down Erwin’s neck. It catches in his shirt collar, stains the fabric, leaves a sticky trail on his skin. Erwin breathes in deep, feels another bead of blood escape, but doesn’t worry about bleeding to death. The cut is minor, tiny, hardly breaks the skin.

The knife doesn’t worry him too much either. If this man wanted him dead, Erwin would already be lying n the floor, throat slashed, drowned in his own blood. But as it stands, they are still talking, or staying quiet with each other, and he finds it quite alright.

“Yes”, the stranger finally says. It’s quiet in the room apart from his voice, Erwin can’t even hear him breathing.

For a passing moment he wonders if he’s dealing with a ghost. A dead man come to haunt him, one of the soldiers he has seen die on the battlefield at his command. A fitting fate for a failing commander, he thinks, his lips curling up in a twisted smile that lacks all joy.

It’s quiet downstairs now, and Erwin has to guess the burglars already found what they wanted. Or perhaps they are listening, keeping an eye and an ear on the owner of the house and the small man behind him.

“Sit.”

The order is so abrupt, so unexpected that Erwin blanches for a moment, turns his head back to look at the man. Not that he can see much; he towers over the burglar, sees nothing but a hood that covers his head and pale hand holding the knife now against his back. It’s a smart placement, angled to slide between his ribs at the slightest sign of disobedience, and Erwin obeys as if his life depends on it. Perhaps it does, after all.

He heads back to his chair, walks slow, careful, keep his hands still, unmoving. He doesn’t want to risk being taken as rebellious.

It’s dark in the room but he finds his chair easy, and he sits down, slow and steady. It’s been a while since he’s been ordered around like this, or at all, and he he can’t quite deny the curious curl of arousal in the pit of his stomach.

“You’re not going get away with this”, he points out, voice flat, not threatening but not giving in either, every bit the commander.

“Good boy”, the stranger praises him in mocking, ignoring Erwin, moving fast behind him, behind his chair. It comes as a surprise when Erwin’s hands are yanked behind his back.

For the first time tonight, Erwin feels a twinge of real discomfort. It grows steadily as the man ties knots around his wrists and elbows, making sure he stays in the chair, can’t use his arms. He doesn’t like being tied up, never has, and while he still has the mobility of his legs left it’s not quite enough. Even so he keeps calm, bites his cheek. There is no way he is giving this man the pleasure of letting him know how uneasy this is making his victim.

The knots are well done, the slim rope holds tight when Erwin tugs and strains against it. The small man is standing in front of him, eyeing him, his eyes catching the moonlight as he stands facing the window, Erwin nothing but a silhouette against it. His eyes are grey, like liquid stone, staring down at Erwin, watching him.

Erwin’s breath hitches as he looks into those eyes and he blinks, finds something interesting on the floor for a brief moment. This isn’t the time to get emotional.

He isn’t scared, he knows he doesn’t need to be. But he is slightly on edge now, uncomfortable with his ties.

The stranger steps back. His steps are silent, a ghost gliding across the floor as he walks over to Erwin’s work desk. There is no mercy to be found in the way he rummages through the drawers, checks the letter Erwin never got to finish, moves on to a dresser in the corner of the room. He seems to be looking for something but what, Erwin can’t tell.

“There’s hardly anything of value here”, he finally points out, his head turned to watch the small man presumably looking for something to steal.  
  
“Perhaps my pen, it was a gift. And there is some cash in the third drawer, the one you’ll check next I assume”, Erwin goes on, his voice loud but not overly so, clear and professional. As if this is only another business meeting. The stakes are always this high.

The thief pauses for a moment and looks at him, his face impassive and unreadable. Erwin can guess from the way he hesitates that he is a little confused, perhaps even unsure of what he has just heard. It could as well be a trap, the third drawer. He can’t know.

“I’m only telling you because I’d like to get back to work”, Erwin explains simply, his brow twitching as the tiny wound in his neck stings. The thief still doesn’t move and Erwin goes for a shrug, only to be stopped by the ropes cutting into his skin.  
“I don’t mind, take all you need as long as you let me live.” It’s an awfully noble approach, Erwin supposes, or maybe it is just humble. But money is only money, he can get more if needed, and it’s not like he is running out of fancy pens. But his life, he only has one, and he has sworn to give it to the freedom of humanity, for their victory, and dying in the hands of a burglar does not count.

Erwin doesn’t hear him this time either. He only sees him, a swift movement in the dark, the tiniest rustle of fabric, and then the man is standing in front of him. He can feel the eyes on him, obscured by the hood, hard and unforgiving. He stands close, so close Erwin can’t get his leg up to kick the man, not with no distance between them. So he waits.

A hand grabs his hair and yanks back, hard. A hiss of air rushes out from between his parted lips, his throat stings, now all exposed. An offering.

Erwin glares at the hiding face, into the grey eyes he can hardly make out in the darkness. He wants to do something but can’t, and his stomach cramps at the idea of being completely at the attacker’s mercy. So Erwin stays still under the scrutiny, all quiet until another hand appears, fingers tracing his cheekbone, his jaw, his neck. His breath hitches softly and his brows knit together, a question hesitating on his lips, on his tongue.

The thief beats him to it.

“You aren’t as old as I thought”, he says, his voice unreadable now, perhaps amused. His fingernails scratch the tender skin on Erwin’s neck, leaving light red streaks behind, then dip under his shirt collar.

“And it seems”, he keeps going, nimble fingers making quick work of the buttons of Erwin’s shirt, “that this visit is turning out far less profitable that I expected.” He sounds breathy, strangled, on the verge of laughter even.

Erwin is not quite sure he is actually awake anymore. His skin burns where those pale, rough fingers touch him, the scratches on his neck like a brand. He must be dreaming, this is too absurd to be real, too good. Yet his neck still stings, his cheek still hurts as he bites it, and he can feel the hot breath fanning his neck as the thief leans in closer, slips to straddle Erwin’s thighs, slim hips rolling against him. And despite himself Erwin’s groans, his crotch stirring at the touch he knows should be unwelcome. The sneaky little thief watches him for a while, amused by his reaction.

Then he chuckles. A soft roll of a laugh, almost inaudible, muffled by the hood or maybe by lack of use, an unfamiliar sound.  
“Lucky for me, there’s something else here to make this worth my while.”

The stranger leans closer, so close Erwin can feel his soft breath on his lips. It smells like mint, he notes, a strange little detail he can’t let pass. It strikes him as strange, someone like this thief, this little rascal, undoubtedly come from the slums within these walls, to take care of his hygiene in such a way that seems almost like vanity. Erwin shifts slightly, his lips almost brushing against the ones in front of him but never quite making it. Maybe it’s the familiarity of the smell, the comfort he takes in it.

The thief jerks back, his hips pressing into Erwin’s, his knife to the commander’s throat. It rests there, right below the wound, cold against his skin. Erwin doesn’t even swallow.

“It has been a while, hasn’t it?” the burglar asks.

Erwin can’t decide if he sounds amazed or amused. Possibly both.

“A while?” he asks anyway, careful to move himself as little as possible. He wants it gone, being put in a vulnerable position such as this doesn’t sit well with him. Or perhaps it does, but he doesn’t know how to handle it yet. He is lucky he is so good at keeping his calm, otherwise it might make him antsy, a little jumpy even.

He doesn’t even blink as the man grabs his crotch without a hint of shame.

“Since you last fucked someone “, the thief explains, his fingers digging into Erwin’s groin, massaging his cock so rough it almost hurts, almost but not quite.

Erwin wants to shrug, to shake his head, anything, but the knife is still there. He only frowns, then, thinking back. How long has it been, really? It’s hard to say, Erwin has never really paid much attention. It’s not that he doesn’t like sex, but it was never high on his list of priorities, and he has never been ashamed to admit it either. This is how it would have been for him if not for… Well. That is a thought he does not want to entertain yet.

Meaningless, fast fucks never meant much to him or brought him much satisfaction and he doesn’t have time for a meaningful relationship, the titans must come first. But now, as he looks into the steely grey eyes, barely visible under the hood, he feels like perhaps he must have cared a bit more. The thief would know.

“A year, or maybe two”, he says, the nonchalance mostly genuine. It’s true, too. His own hand has brought him over plenty of times when the pressure has gotten too much, but it has been a long time since he’s done it with another human being.

The thief scoffs, sneers at him, mocking and full of disbelief.

“Wife stingy much?”

“No wife”, Erwin answers immediately, his cock already growing hard under the groping fingers.

“No?” The thief sounds surprised.

“No. And no kids either. I don’t have time, I have work to do.”

“Ah.” The stranger seems to consider this for a moment.  
“Should’ve guessed, being the commander and all. No lovers, then, either?”

“Let’s not talk about that.” Erwin is sure it should feel stranger than this, discussing his love life with a burglar, but he can’t bring himsel to care.

“Oh, touchy. Not even paid ones?”

It is starting to feel more and more like mockery, or a game. Erwin frowns.  
“No, none. Just me.”

“Just you”, the thief echoes, his scratchy voice doing almost as much to Erwin’s cock as his lithe little fingers now rhythmically stroking him. His undergarments are starting to feel rather painful.

Erwin shifts his hips, the bulge painfully obvious. He can imagine the satisfied smirk on the thief’s lips as he glances down.

For a while it’s quiet. All Erwin can hear is his own, embarrassingly heavy breathing and the whistle of the wind at the window. The touch of cold breeze makes the hair at his neck stand up.

There are fingers working on his pants, pulling down his fly. Erwin doesn’t need to be asked to lift his hips. The burglar leaves him with his underpants on.

A small sound escaped Erwin’s lips as he pale fingers rub over a wet spot at the front of his boxers. It would be embarrassing if the situation wasn’t quite so absurd.

“Eager, are we?”

Erwin doesn’t answer. He moistens his lips with his tongue, eyes darting from the burglar’s fingers to his face, swallowed by the hood. He is already so hard it hurts, his cock throbs against the fabric and he knows he’s leaking into it. He feels almost like a teenager again, nevermind that experiences like this were never part of his teenage years.

The thief pinches the head of his cock between his forefingers and thumb. Erwin’s face scrunches up and he shifts his hips, whether to get away or rock into the touch, he isn’t quite sure.

“You can’t come yet.” It’s astonishing, how someone so small can have such a commanding voice, even if he still sounds bored.

Erwin doesn’t ask why. He doesn’t dare to speak, afraid he’ll somehow offend the intruder and he’ll leave. The irony of it makes him want to smile.

He doesn’t know if he should be surprised or not when the small figure slides off his lap. He misses the weight on him, the touch on his clothed cock. His hips buck up, yearning for more.

The burglar doesn’t spare Erwin a glance as he undoes his own pants. He tugs them down to his ankles and kicks one leg out, stands in front of Erwin without a hint of shame.

Erwin wants to groan at the sight. Slender but muscular legs, pale skin dusted with light dark hair, a hardening cock jutting out underneath the hem of his shirt. His mouth suddenly feels dry, invisible sand pouring in and he licks his lips again. The burglar grabs his own cock and gives it a couple of firm strokes. Suddenly Erwin finds it very hard to breathe.

“Come here”, he drawls, desperate to touch the man in front of him. His fingers curl, blunt nails digging into his palms, ties into his wrists.

“Naughty, naughty”, the thief sing-songs right back at him. He still steps closer, hand falling from his cock, a bead of pre-cum forming at the tip.

Erwin bites his lip as the weight returns on him, slim hips rolling against him, rutting against his stomach. Firm ass grinds against the covered, aching bulge, a reddened cock sliding underneath his shirt and leaving a trail of foreign cum on his abdomen. Erwin shivers, his hips thrusting up, meeting the burglar halfway.

Pale hands press against his chest, finger finding nipples. The thief pinches one, draws a gasp from Erwin’s bitten swollen lips. The binds pinch his wrists, the pain forgotten. His shirt feels so very rough against his nipples, it rubs against his skin with every movement, every thrust of hips.

Erwin can’t remember ever being this turned on in his life, or at least not in a very long time.

It feels both like a blessing and a curse when the thief pushes Erwin’s shirt off his shoulders. The pale hand never leaves his nipple alone but the fabric is gone. Erwin’s chest arches into the touch, lips open in a gasp when the burglar pinches him. Hot breath fans over his shoulder, dull teeth bite into his skin. It’ll bruise in the morning. Erwin couldn’t care less.

His stomach is already cramping, his nerves on fire, the thief’s touch igniting them. His cock feels like it’s going to burst and his teeth clamp, a strangled groan raising from his throat.

Erwin doesn’t get any further than that. Without a warning, the pressure is gone. The smaller man pulls away, sits back on Erwin’s knees, careful not to touch him any more than he must. The hood has finally fallen off and Erwin is smitten. Perhaps some higher power somewhere loves him, how else could he have a thief like this fall literally into his lap?

His face is small like the rest of him, all sharp angles and straight lines. His lips are swollen red, cheeks dusted with with the same color. His eyes are liquid gray, burning with barely contained lust and his black hair clings to his forehead. Nobody on the streets would ever call him beautiful, but to Erwin he is the most gorgeous thing he has ever seen. He is tempted to say so, but he knows better.

They wait in silence. Finally, as if he has gotten a sign, the thief moves again, this time to pull Erwin’s underpants off. His cock springs free, packed with blood, the air cold around it. Erwin wishes, not for the first time, that his hands were free.

The thief whistles.

“Not bad”, he says, no longer mocking. His voice has gotten thicker too, heavy with lust.

Erwin never notices the bottle of oil until the pale fingers are dripping with the liquid. It feels like heaven on his cock, that nimble hand stroking him better than he could ever touch himself. The oil makes their skins slide together, wet sounds erupting when that blessed hand goes too far over the tip. He almost whines when the hand finally leaves him, only to moan out loud as the intruder lifts himself over Erwin cocks and slowly sinks down on it.

Erwin savors every moment, the squeeze of the strong muscles around him, the wet heat that feels even better than the hand. He pulls at his bindings again, useless, and finds himself staring at his own cock sliding in and out of that tight body. The thief is slowly rising higher on his knees and then sinking back down again, almost making a show of it. Erwin moans again at loss when the tip of his cock slips out of the welcoming body.

“Stop staring”, the thief grunts and grabs Erwin’s shoulder for support. He aligns his hips again and sinks back down.

This time, Erwin watches his face as he thrusts his hips up, his cock sliding all the way in to that beautiful ass. There is a slip of ecstasy in his expression, a little scrunch in that pointy nose, fluttering eyelashes and a loud groan deep from his throat.

Right after, still slick fingers pinch Erwin’s earlobe.

“Behave.”

Erwin does, to some extent. He still moves his hips when the pressure gets too much, but he tries not to bother the thief, lets him have his control. It’s intoxicating, the way the smaller man rolls his hips in a perfect rhythm, moaning softly on top of him, fiery eyes never leaving Erwin’s. He holds onto Erwin, clings to his shoulders, breathes loud and heavy and he can’t get enough. Erwin finds himself lost in those eyes, in this moment, the beautiful heat squeezing his cock just right, pumping him until he feels himself lose it.

He almost sees stars. Almost, because he doesn’t take his eyes off Levi’s face. He comes with a grunt, his hips snapping up, almost throwing the thief off balance. The smaller man’s cock gets squished between their bodies, his hand flying to rub it, to get himself off too. He shoots cum all over Erwin’s chest, ass dripping with Erwin’s.

The room is filled with heavy panting, the afterglow almost tangible around them. The burglar leans against Erwin’s chest, his head falling on the commander’s shoulder, hot breath on his neck. He shifts, chapped lips meeting skin. They pepper small kisses on Erwin’s neck, below his ear, down to the cut underneath his chin. He kisses the cut, soft, gentle. An apology, as much as he’ll ever get. The knife was a little much.

“Levi”, Erwin rasps, voice strangled, needy. Not for sex, for something else.

“Untie me.”

Levi scrambles off his lap, hurries to slice through the binds. He is hardly done when Erwin stands up and grabs him, pulls him close, a hand gripping the slender hips tight. There is no hesitation in his movements, a firm hand guiding Levi into a kiss so passionate it gets a little sloppy towards the end. It leaves them breathless again, panting and clinging to each other.

They stay like that for a minute, or two, until cum starts to dry between Levi’s thighs. He steps back, fingers brushing against Erwin’s bruising wrist.

“You shouldn’t have hurt yourself, idiot.”

Erwin knows it’s his way of asking if he is alright. If it was good. He cups Levi’s cheeks, smiles when Levi kisses right above his wrist.

“It was perfect, Levi.”

Levi looks up, less guarded now. He eyes Erwin silently for a while and a smirk flickers on his lips.

“You are one kinky old man, you know that?”

“I thought you said I wasn’t that old.” Erwin throws back in stride and presses a kiss on Levi’s hair. “Not denying the kinky part. Thanks for playing along.”

“Yeah, sure.”

“I wasn’t expecting to see you until tomorrow. Couldn’t wait for me at the headquarters?”

Levi pokes him on the side of his neck.

“Shut up. Welcome back, though.”

“I missed you too.”

“I’m going to go wash up.”

Erwin takes a moment to appreciate his lover’s perky ass disappear into the bathroom and decides that this hasn’t been a bad way at all to reunite. Perhaps he should go out on work trips more often. 

**Author's Note:**

> Hope you enjoyed, comments and kudos much appreciated as always. :) Happy Eruri week!
> 
> Find me on tumblr: http://daftd.tumblr.com


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